


you're welcome

by cherrystarved



Category: Better Call Saul (TV)
Genre: Hand Jobs, M/M, Semi-Public Sex, gus being calm as always and saul being a turned on mess, thats all u need to know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-12
Updated: 2020-08-12
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:28:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25853617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherrystarved/pseuds/cherrystarved
Summary: saul does something right, for once. gus thanks him with a hand job.
Relationships: Gustavo Fring/Jimmy McGill | Saul Goodman
Comments: 15
Kudos: 54





	you're welcome

**Author's Note:**

> thank you to my bcs fandom friends for encouraging me to be gross! <3 this fic wouldn't have been posted if not for them.

Saul Goodman doesn’t do favors for anyone. Well, maybe he has a few exceptions. Gus Fring, being a terrifying and powerful drug kingpin, definitely makes that list. So, when Saul got word that a dealer had been caught and was on the verge of snitching, he pulled out all the stops to get him out of there before anything catastrophic could happen. What Gus did with the kid after, he didn’t want to know.

It must have been pretty important, though, because the next day a shiny black car was parked outside Saul’s office as he was locking up. He watches it carefully as he walks to his Cadillac, noticing the unsettling sensation of being followed.

He nearly jumps out of his skin when he turns to the driver’s side of his car and comes face to face with the drug lord himself.

“Hey! Jesus, give a guy a little warning next time!” Saul hisses, clutching at his chest. “My clients already give me enough stress, you really want my heart to give out?!” 

Gus is stone faced, calm as ever. Not even a second has passed and he’s already reduced Saul to a pile of nerves. “Apologies.” He says, looking Saul up and down. “I just wanted to let you know that you did a more than satisfactory job of carrying out my orders.”

“Seriously? This is the thanks I get?” Saul asks, maybe a little more aggressively than he should. He steps forward into Gus’s space, jabbing a finger towards the other man. “I stick my neck out for you, and you pay me back by sneaking up and scaring the shit out of me?!”

He doesn’t have time to react before Gus is shoving him against the car with a firm hand on his chest. “I would advise you to take a moment to calm yourself.”

Saul freezes. “Fuck.” He says, heart beating in his throat. “Sorry, I’m sorry. It’s been a really long day, that’s all. I didn’t mean to, to threaten you or anything like that, shit, uh-”

“Stop talking.” Gus says. 

Saul snaps his jaw shut instantly. He’s hyper aware of Gus’s palm still pressed against his breastbone, the warmth of it spreading into his skin through the fabric. Saul realizes with a chill that they’re seemingly alone in the parking lot. Francesca called in sick, and Huell had gone home a half hour ago. Gus could kill him right now and nobody would notice. 

No, Gus wouldn’t kill him. There’s no reason to go to all that trouble, right? He would just kick his ass, at worst. The earlier moment starts to replay in Saul’s head. The shocking, sudden force that Gus had used to push him away without blinking. The strength in the single hand that had him pinned to his car door. The unimpressed look on his face as he had moved Saul like he was a rag doll and not, in fact, a grown man.

“I’m not going to hurt you.” Gus says, but he doesn’t let up. Saul tries desperately to calm down. To think of anything other than the compromising position he’s currently in. 

The fact that part of him loves being handled like this isn’t helping. His pants suddenly feel tighter. There are few prospects more terrifying than Gus Fring noticing he’s sporting a huge boner from his hands on him. Actually, hand, Saul reminds himself. Gus has turned him into this much of a wreck with a movement of one hand and nothing else. Saul has to fight not to squeeze his legs together.

Gus takes a deep, even breath, and lets him go. Saul sighs with relief. He ignores the part of himself that cries out in protest. 

“So, uh...we’re good?” Saul asks, straightening his tie and trying to regain his composure.

“...Yes.” 

Saul shifts uncomfortably as Gus stares at him. He wants to ask what he’s looking at, but he doesn’t want to embarrass himself more than he already has.

“I believe you’ve received your payment?” 

Oh. Is that what he came all this way to ask? Saul nods frantically. “Yep. Yeah. Every penny. Thanks.”

That’s when Gus’s gaze flickers downward, and Saul’s blood goes cold. His face burns. He’s almost praying that Gus won’t mention it, that he’ll say goodnight and leave like he didn’t just make eye contact with the bulge in his pants.

“Maybe it would be a good idea for you to get in your car.”

“Wh-What?” Saul chokes out. Gus just nods towards the car door, so Saul scrambles for his keys. He climbs into the driver’s seat and grabs the wheel, flexing his hands nervously.

Gus steps up to the open door, looking down at him. For a second, Saul is scared that Gus is going to reach in and choke him. He tries very, very hard not to think about how he feels himself throb in his pants because of this.

“This is incredibly inappropriate, but because of your recent assistance to me, I am not opposed to...doing you a favor.”

Saul’s eyebrows shoot up as he turns to look at Gus. He’s a shadowy figure, barely illuminated by the distant streetlights at the edges of the strip mall. “A favor? Y-You mean, like…?” 

Gus’s silence somehow confirms it. Saul only now realizes how much he’s sweating. “Now?”

“Yes or no?” Gus asks. “I have business to return to.”

The right thing would be to say no to a powerful criminal offering to get you off in the front seat of your car. Saul Goodman has never been one for doing the right thing. He drops his hands from the steering wheel. 

“Fuck, okay, alright. Yes. Please.”

Gus reacts immediately, reaching towards him with a professional dedication. Saul guesses this is a reward, a bonus for doing what he was asked admittedly well. 

He swallows hard as Gus quickly undoes his belt and looks at him. “Lift up.” 

Saul scrambles to raise his hips and Gus briskly tugs his pants and boxers down to his ankles. Saul chokes back a gasp, face heating up at being exposed so unexpectedly.

Next, Gus grasps the bottom edges of his dress shirt. He pulls it up roughly over the softness of his stomach, not bothering to undo the buttons. Saul bites his lip and looks down to where he’s exposed, hard and heavy between his legs. 

“Relax.” Gus says, and it’s somehow commanding and comforting all at once. He's definitely noticing the nervousness in Saul’s motions. Or maybe it’s just the way that Saul is always almost painfully tense. Even more so recently.

Gus holds his hand out in front of Saul’s face, and Saul’s mind is already so fuzzy (from Gus’s controlling motions, his strength, the way he’s able to get anyone to do anything just from the sternness of his voice) that the implication of the motion doesn't register in his mind. Gus's voice is even and unbothered, as always. “Spit.”

The word hits Saul like a bus. He takes a second to shakily gather the saliva in his mouth before he eagerly spits into the waiting hand. 

“Again.” 

He does, staring as it pools on Gus’s palm. Saul groans with relief, surprised and bitten-off, when Gus finally wraps his hand around his aching cock. It’s rough, not nearly enough slickness for it to be comfortable, but that just makes it better. Saul struggles to hold back the sounds that are building up in his chest. 

Fat beads of precum are starting to drip out as Gus pumps him. They roll down his shaft and start to ease the friction. His hips twitch up before he can stop himself. Gus hums in possible encouragement. It makes Saul shiver. He looks down at where he’s now humping into Gus's slick hand, punctuating each thrust with a tiny moan. 

Gus pauses, letting go of Saul’s cock. Saul makes a pathetic noise at the loss and quickly goes to bite his knuckles. Gus’s firm, certain hand makes its way to Saul's inner thigh, gently pulling it towards him, forcing Saul to shakily spread his legs. He can’t hide now. Gus’s hand moves down to rub over his balls. 

When he finally takes him in his palm again, he squeezes his shaft for a second, weighing him in his hand. Saul realizes how exposed he is right now. How Gus can access anything he wants to. His gaze is clinical, evaluating. Watching the way his thighs clench, the way his cock throbs and twitches in his hand. Saul’s skin has broken out into goosebumps. Desperate sounds slip out of his mouth, even though he’s desperately trying to be quiet as Gus massages him thoroughly from root to tip. 

Suddenly, Gus's other hand grabs his face and tilts it up, fingertips pressing into his cheeks. “Look at me.” His voice carries more darkness now.

The direct order makes Saul's stomach swoop. He looks up into Gus's eyes, the forced vulnerability deepening the red on his cheeks. He's embarrassingly out of breath and making even more humiliating noises. 

Something about how debased he must look, sweating and breathing hard, pants around his ankles in the front seat of his expensive car, only adds to the rush. Gus is still so put together, perfectly distinguished even with his hand wrapped around Saul’s dick. The wet sound of Gus fisting his cock, firm and rhythmic, is impossibly loud in his ears. Pressure builds hot and urgent inside of him.

Sudden panic rises in Saul’s chest when he realizes what’s about to happen, that he’s going to have to clean his own fucking cum out of his car. “Wait, wait, I’m…” He tapers off with a moan as Gus thumbs at the vein along the underside. “No, please, I can’t-” 

Gus immediately lets go. Saul whines, almost hurt by the complete lack of stimulation. It feels like a punch in the gut from how close he was to the edge. He fidgets anxiously. He really, really hopes that Gus doesn’t just leave him here like this, legs spread, cock wet and twitching against nothing. 

But then Gus pulls out a fucking handkerchief and presses it to the head of Saul’s dick. He pulls it over him and firmly holds it there with his forefinger and thumb. He reaches down, finally using his second hand to begin stroking him again. The silk is soft and already becoming slick with precum. It rubs tightly over the sensitive head of his cock. The contrast between the texture and Gus roughly pulling at his shaft is sharp, and Saul’s chest is heaving. Broken whimpers he never thought Gus would hear are pouring out of him now. The silk is rapidly darkening with how much he’s leaking. Gus brings his index finger up from around the handkerchief, pressing down onto the very tip of Saul’s cock with the pads of his pointer and middle fingers.

The gesture seems so analytical that Saul can't stop himself from coming. He quickly clamps his hand over his mouth to muffle a yell. Gus pulls his fingers off the handkerchief, quickly sliding them down to pull the silk tight around Saul’s tip again. Saul watches a little cum shoot up through the fabric and then back down, soaking it, and if he wasn’t already set off then this would definitely do it. Gus seems to realize the potential amount of release there’s about to be, and presses the palm of his hand to the top of the handkerchief. 

Saul is immensely thankful, because coming against Gus’s hand is infinitely better than coming all over the steering wheel. He gasps for air, making strained, urgent sounds as everything fades except the pleasure overtaking him.

Gus waits to let go until he stops shivering through the aftershocks, wiping his hand off on another fucking handkerchief. In the back of his orgasm-clouded mind, Saul wonders how many fucking handkerchiefs this man carries at once.

“Are you alright?” 

Saul closes his eyes and nods, giving him two shaky thumbs up. He's still catching his breath, focusing on the feeling of blood thrumming through his veins and his heartbeat in his ears.

It’s silent for a moment. Saul wonders if Gus has already left, before he hears him speak again.

“...If this is what it takes for you to remain motivated towards our arrangement, we can work out the conditions at a later date. You know where to reach me.” Gus hesitates, seeming like he has something more to say. 

Saul’s eyes are still shut, but he doesn’t jump when Gus pats his shoulder with his clean hand. “Have a safe drive.”


End file.
